Curse of the Grey
by Immortal Cousland
Summary: Dragon Age: Awakening This story takes place in the Dragon Age expansion. Female/Human/Noble Warden Commander. There is some angst in this romance, as Cousland is battling the turmoil of having her love, Alistair, as King... and other detrimental problems that come along with it. Loneliness being the easiest to bear.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 : To singe a King's knickers.**

As the heavy door of the keep closed behind her, the Warden-Commander felt a rush of warmth from the fire at the center of the main hall. It was late so she made sure the door closed as quiet as possible. Her knuckles cracked from the cold of the late fall country weather as she tucked away the letter she had retrieved from the private outside. She heard a hard wind press the door behind her and felt a small draft that tickled the hairs at the back of her neck. Her sparkling eyes scanned the main hall, dark, save for the grand brazier.

She knelt on the thin red rug, the chill of the autumn biting clear into the floor. Her shiver echoed into distant whispers in the vast room. The heat of the fire made her armor especially hot, so she didn't stay knelt for long. As she stood she heard movement behind her.

"Warden-Commander, good evening," The voice was her Seneschal. "Out for a late night stroll, as well?" His deep voice rang with a slight amusement with which she was familiar.

"Ah-ha, you caught me. Actually, I thought it might be amusing to singe a pair of Alistair's knickers. Loosen him up a bit. You know, being King is rather distracting… disheartening, and… displeasing. "

Seneschal Varel took a step forward. "Distracting, disheartening, and displeasing for his majesty, or… you, Warden-Commander?"

She was off-put by his insightful inquiry and it must have showed quite plainly.

"I fear the years I've known you has… caused me to speak too freely, forgive me, Warden-Commander." He said, clearing his throat after a pause, appearing taller when he pulled his shoulders back—as if snapping back into protocol.

She replied with only silence. Questions bubbled within her ears. Her gaze had grown distant, and for a moment, she did not realize it. She focused on Seneschal Varel and stared at him. The fire of the brazier flickered in his eyes and he lowered them from hers.

"No harm done, Seneschal Varel. You have proven a good friend… and it is friends who most often show us quite plainly, what we may not see ourselves; thank you."

There was a curt nod from the Seneschal. The fire crackled loudly.

"Goodnight, Warden-Commander. May you find peace before morning."

"Goodnight." With that she turned to walk toward the living quarters. She glanced over her shoulder back at him, thoughts wandering through her mind of the Seneschal. He was a good friend. Although in a short time… he had proven himself, time, and time again. Now, here, she has chosen to stay in Amaranthine… while her husband, King Alistair, must rule Fereldan.

When she entered her room she saw her mabari hound stand to greet her with a wagging nub tail. "You know, part of me wishes Logain had become king so many years ago. Then, perhaps… it would be me and Alistair wandering the country side… instead of me and you."

Dark beady eyes stared up at her and a heart-wrenching whimper sounded. She knelt and ruffled his face, coddling.

"Oh, I know, the smell wouldn't improve much, right?"

Bark!

She smiled and laughed.

She opened the letter she had retrieved earlier... reading it quickly. Her eyes scanned side to side... and paused on one particular part.

'I'm sorry, my dearest heart, but I'll be in Orlais for another moon, maybe more. We will have to postpone our vacation together to another time. It kills me to tell you this... and for what it's worth, I'm very, deeply, sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you. Did I mention I'm going to be spoiling you rotten when I get home? I have sooo many gifts for you-and the hound. I got this cute little bow to put in his fur. Think he'll like it? I do! Now what can I get for the stains...'

She tossed the letter to her bed, not having the heart to finish reading it. Instead of sleeping in the bed, she went and slept on the floor beside the hearth fire. It was something she did often. The smell of the soot… the firmness of the cold stones under her back… her hound alert and ever watchful by her side. It was familiar. It comforted her. Her heart ached for the days when she traveled with Alistair.

She even missed the smell of his dirty socks. Perish the thought.


	2. Chapter 2: Just your Alistair

Alistair's voice sounded inquisitive.

"Do you ever wonder about Duncan?"

"Have you?" I replied.

"I've had my fair share of day dreaming, you'd scarcely believe it, what, with all this royal business and bloodshed within the last day. I do take note whenever you cleverly avoid a question with a question, though, you tactful little minx."

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I found something when we returned to Ostagar… I wanted to give it to you. It… belonged to Duncan."

"This sword-could this really…? I'm speechless…"

He was so surprised he almost sounded as if he stopped breathing.

"Being raised by two maternal slobbering mabari hounds never prepared you for something like this, love?"

"Ha, ha, ha… you always know just what to say... What a pair we make."

"I want to go to Highever with you. There has yet to be a ceremony for Duncan."

My voice was soft, warm, like his hair between my fingers that I remember so well.

"Of course, I would leave at once had I not need to be here for the coronation… Duncan deserved that honor much sooner…"

"You do what you can, my King."

"Oh, no, no, no. I won't have YOU calling me that, dear. Please, I'll always be that clumsy Templar falling all over himself for you in Ostagar. I'll always be just your Alistair."


	3. Chapter 3: Orlais for Another Moon

It was she who asked him to go away with her.

Strike your enemy with a flurry…

'I'll be in Orlais for another moon, maybe more...'

She leaped back to slide into her next attack, a riposte.

'We will have to postpone...'

Then with some fancy footwork, she whirled. Chunks fell to the ground.

'...to another time.'

In her imagination, she felt the hot spray of blood. She heard the echoes of death-rattle breaths and the screams of the dying dark spawn... was like a choir of angels.

She looked at the ground, allowing her body to come to stillness. There was a puddle of darkness on the ground. The sound of dri-drip-drip hypnotized her; dark spawn blood. It stained the ground and ate away at the earth like black cancer with claws and black curling tendrils... like a spider web of expanding darkness enveloping all life, light, and existence.

"Hey, hey there, don't BREAK it. I need that for later use!" Anders said sounding rather disgruntled.

With a blink, the black cancer eating into the ground was gone. That was when she realized it was not blood on the ground, but water, and the dri-drip-drip was rain. All at once she realized she was soaked to the bone.

She had started practicing with two long swords in her hands... for two-handed mastery.

"Brutal." He said, shaking his head at the ruined dummy.

"Anders… you wanted to practice some, right?" Nathanial asked from the side.

"Yes, I would have liked to, if our particularly cranky leader would have left even a splinter for others to play with. What am I going to do with that thing now? It would fall over if I laughed at it." Anders said. A white cat came darting under the nearby awning for shelter from the rain. "Ser Pounce-a-lot! There you are!"

The Keep was busy. There were dwarves remodeling the Keep's defensive palisade. The smoke from the armory was especially acrid today, as well. Despite the business, morale was low. Many had lost loved ones in the countryside. As she walked through the hall, she overheard Mistress Woolsey.

"It would be of great import on many levels," She said, speaking with Captain Garavel. "It would increase trade and morale, the maker knows I've been sweeping dust from the coffers as is."

Captain Garavel was shook his head, and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "It would be the worst time to blind our eye from our defenses. The dark spawn would see it as an opening to strike!"

"The days are short already, and on the day of the solstice the night would be longest. Our people would be in the darkness-with no hope... and no happiness. Their only comfort would be their fear and cheap gruel in their bowls." Mistress Woolsey replied with a rising tone.

They were at ends. The Commander was heading into the east wing as the Seneschal was heading out. He nodded to her, but she ignored it.

He would no doubt play the deciding factor on the solstice. Hopefully.

"What's this? A suggestion to celebrate the upcoming solstice? The Keep could use the boost, what, with the impending mysteries of the dark spawn lurking in the foggy hills..."

The Warden Commander did not care to hear the rest of the conversation. She left puddles of soggy footsteps all the way to her room, dodging servants as they decorated the Keep.

Why would she care of all the political fuss?

She felt as though her heart was broken.

The frustrations and loneliness of being a warden… the stress of being apart from the one she loved, the haunting visions; it was coming to a head, and she could no longer control it or ignore it. She couldn't make herself numb anymore.

'I'm sorry, but I'll be in Orlais for another moon...'

Anger. It suddenly exploded inside her and all in one furious flash of it, she slammed her fist into the wall. She felt nothing. She pulled her hand back, and looked at her fist. She saw black blood oozing out… and the same dark cancer she saw earlier was crawling from the wound on her knuckles, eating away at her hand, spreading rapidly down her arm with thin vein-like tentacles... She dropped her weapon and suddenly she lost all sensation and consciousness as she fell to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4: Duncan's Gift

Memories of Ostagar… the moment we met. His voice echoed the words from the joining.

'Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten... and that one day, we shall join you…'

"You're most precious when you're falling all over yourself."

"—And quite loud too, you know, wearing massive plate armor is rather clanky."

"Yes, and what a sight it is to see you dressed in kingly robes and other finery, now."

"Well, my dear, you're quite the sight yourself in silks fit for a Queen. Might I be so bold to say, you're more ravishing when I'm taking them off you?"

"Y-yes… Thank you."

"You look so beautiful!"

"You're welcome to look…"

"Oooh, I love it when you talk like that; makes my ears as hot as Oghren's flaming axe. Then I get this twitch in my hand leg."

A different voice sounded, feminine and wise.

"Wipe your chin, drool is very unsightly to be seen on a King, you know."

"Oh, maker's mercy, Wynne-can't you see I'm having a private moment with my fiancé?"

"Forgive me your highness. I merely came to fetch you for the meeting you have scheduled today with headmaster Gregior from the Circle."

"Oh, is it time for that already?" Alistair had a deep sigh. I felt it too. "Alright, alright, I'll be coming along in a moment."

"If I may advise, your majesty, bringing a… dagger may not be wise."

"Oh! Of course not, Wynne, this is just a gift it—it won't be coming with me. Um, may we have a moment alone, please, Wynne?"

"Certainly."

"Phew. Assigning Wynne as the kingdom's mage advisor might have been a good idea, but if she doesn't sound like a fretting little nug sometimes… anyway, darling. This dagger… knowing that it was Duncan's… it just reminds me of him. It makes his memory all that much stronger. Thank you for remembering… what I said so long ago. Sometimes I feel you were the only one who ever really listened to what I was rattling on about. It means… a lot to me. Thank you. I love you so."

"I love you too, and you're welcome, buuut… you know, an entire kingdom waits with open ears for you, now. Don't keep them waiting."

"You're right. I'll be off to that meeting now. How do I look, presentable?"

"Yes. They will merely have to overlook the lipstick on your collar."

"What? Ah, oooh you tease!"


	5. Chapter 5: Scandalous

Chapter 5 : Scandalous.

Another memory came to haunt her dreams, so it seems. How long had it been since she saw Alistair? It felt as if it had been years. Like, she had been a completely different person since she felt his touch. At times, she felt as though maybe he was a dream she made up.

Missives would come less and less the more dangerous, the roads to the Keep became. With the troubles of the dark spawn in the lands, it was a miracle she got word from the king at all. The distance the couple was experiencing was natural. It was also undesired… and painful—but she had faith their love was still there. It was clear in his letters and in her heart...

Companions can shortly cease the loneliness but it's temporary.

In time, all things are temporary… aren't they?

She didn't move for a long while… comfortable to remain cooped in her bed for the morning-maybe afternoon, as well… why not?

That's when she realized she wasn't alone. She felt something warm on her arm. It was a hand. Her tired eyes followed the arm up to see a familiar face… Seneschal Varel. He was propped in a chair at the side of the bed. He still wore his armor—and he was asleep. No thoughts muddled in her mind in this moment… she didn't breathe, fear she would wake him. He had a straight and proud nose… and feathery gray hair that contrasted well with his tan skin.

She looked around, then, and had the startling realization that she wasn't even in her room. Or in her own bed. Perplexed, she looked around the room… there was a desk and there was a framed photograph sitting there amidst parchment. She was curious whom it was... her eyes continued along and spotted two tall shelves of books with mounted trophies between each shelf. One wall had a weapon rack and there was an ornate scimitar mounted above the door. The room was warm and dim, the only light the sunlight filtering in through the window, spilling over a dark and mature carpet on the floor.

That was when she noticed the smell. It was the sweet hint of sage. The sheets smelled of it… as did the room. It was enchanting. That must have been what the Seneschal smelled like. She felt bashful for a moment, as if she had impeded on his personal space with the mental note.

All at once she realized… it was the first time she'd smelled a man in several months. That was when she decided—something inside her was afraid—and she had to get out. She abruptly rolled out of the bed and away from the Seneschal's hand.

She paused, curiosity returning to her. She looked back to the desk covered with parchment and crept closer to the frame perched there. At the oval center, behind a slick piece of glass, was a portrait of a woman with long blond hair and a regal looking dress. She was beautiful and had light colored eyes and a doleful look in her eyes... the edges of her mouth were turned down as if she were sad...

She hurried to the door but stopped when she noticed her hand… the memory of punching the wall… the vision of the taint eating away at her, but this time, she didn't see it. Instead, she saw the clean white bandages that were gingerly layered there. A deep regret suddenly bit into her chest. What from… she wasn't sure.

She looked back at the Seneschal still sleeping there and she walked back… pulling the blanket from the bed to wrap carefully around him. The scent of sage felt as though it followed her from his quarters… and she was warmed by it, for a time.


	6. Chapter 6: Heir to the Throne

"Alistair… do you regret not waiting for marriage…?" I was a little confused by his inaction this evening; he had yet to make his move.

"Maker forgive me, but, no, not in the least. Here we are, our wedding night… and there's nothing to be nervous or scared about. Is that even supposed to be normal?" He said with a nervous chuckle that was cut short by awkward silence only Alistair could muster.

"Listen to you, so confident, yet why are you shaking?" I said playfully, already crawling closer to him like a lioness stalking her prey. In a way he was… especially tonight.

"Shaking? Oh, it's not shaking. It's a shiver. Being so near you gives me shivers!" He was so cute when he tried to hide his feelings. Not to say he was actually good at that…

"Persistent, aren't they." I purred and slid my hands up his chest to bunch the fabric of his shirt up under his arms.

"Alright… a little nervous. It's strange being safe and sound and at peace. Oh, and this bed! It's so big and a little too plush, don't you think?—Ahh!" He gasped, surprised at my forwardness, but that was all he needed… a little push. He was like puddy in my hands… the memory of his breath shuddering still makes me heart skip a beat.

"Wait, um… ohh," His skin burns under my fingers… and he knows he's mine. I've caught him.

"Ahh, oh, okay… you win." He says weakly… with that soft whine of a whimper sounding. Though, this weak side is only momentary. He turns aggressive quite quickly. Like a switch and he's gripping my shoulders tightly and turning the tables. He pins my back into the cushioned bed, and I feel his weight atop me. His blue eyes burn into mine like two cold stones… and this time, I'm the one with the shivers.


	7. Chapter 7: Immortal Cousland

Chapter 7 : Immortal Cousland

The evening chill was crisp that evening without any rain in sight. The air tasted like wet leaves but it was refreshing. The solstice celebration began at sunset. The Keep was silent and the halls were empty, for all inhabitants were outside admiring the artful colors of the horizon. Most in attendance stood atop the palisade wall, others watched from the castle windows and the barracks rooftop... and children climbed the pine trees to see. Even Ser Pounce-a-lot was perched with his master Anders in silent peace.

There was a hopeful shiver in all those who viewed. This day marked the lengthening of day and the coming of a less brutal season. There was light at the end of the tunnel... and this silent joy was in the eyes of all. It was a secret excitement that bubbled within each heart; hope.

The hope of better days ahead.

All throughout the Keep this night every lantern was filled to the brim with oil. Between every torch in the Keep, more were added. There were dusty candelabras that were taken out of storage to add more light to the keep. Every corner of the keep was littered with lights, and with it brought hope. In every window there were candles, and each palisade brazier roared. The very Keep itself glowed like a beacon in the darkness of night like the gem of Amaranthine, and on the mouths and lips of those there, swore that the Maker himself would not overlook such a spectacle.

The Warden Commander stood inside the main hall of the keep... many had gathered inside to light the grand chandelier. It was tradition for each person at the Keep to light a candle and make a wish… over time; it had become something that only children and the youthful participated. A rare smile curled the edges of Cousland's mouth as she watched a mother help her boy light his candle.

This chandelier was symbolic of each of the wishes of those at the Keep; and with each wish, the room grew brighter.

Anders and Nathaniel came bursting into view reeking of holiday wassail. They both had their own stein of the drink and sloshed clumsily to their commander.

"What're you doin' in yer bleedin' armor, Commander?" Anders questioned.

Nathanial handed her his pint. "Have at it, Commander, loosen up!"

"Loosen up? So one of you wants to get me out of my armor, and the other wants me to get drunk? My, my, boys, I never knew." She teased and took a sip of the drink. It tasted of brandy and cinnamon with a touch of cloves.

They busted out laughing. Nathanial had to hold himself up and Anders was in tears. "Truly? I think a barrel of grapes has more appeal, Commander."

Before she could question the grapes comment they had pulled her out the doors. They stumbled through the smithy knocking their heads against small paper ornaments hung by the children that looked like stars, leading Cousland into the courtyard.

The boys headed into the merriment where the bonfire was set ablaze. There were already many dancing around it, and a few bards were singing some songs and telling some tales... one of them spoke of the Warden-Commander herself.

Ohgren was sitting in a chair with a mug of ale listening to one of the stories... making sure to add in the 'accurate' parts of the Warden's conquests in Ferelden.

"They say the streets of Denerim were flooded with blood… "The male bard spoke leaning in toward the children who listened with rapt ears and wide eyes. "…the blood of dark spawn… and it's told that the soldiers used it to douse the flames that were set in the city by the dark spawn themselves... a kind of justice in its own right, and a horrific sight..."

"Aye, actually, when the Grey Warden arrived in Denerim she lead the war party straight into the Arch demon... the army was so mighty it shook the earth and the dark spawn in their way wet themselves. HIC! Or at least, that's what I figure those stains were..."

Cousland crossed her arms, as if to say she was unhappy with his descriptions, but that could not stop the smile on her face. "Ohgren, you should mention the part where King Alistair danced the remigold for his final attack. That's what they say made him live, you know. The Archdemon actually laughed itself to death. Therefore, King Alistair didn't actually take the final cutting blow. Did you know that?" She ruffled one of the children on the head as her comment roused giggles and chuckles from the crowd.

The Warden Commander walked along the palisade looking out over the horizon when she bumped into Velanna perched atop a crate. She looked surprised at first. "Oh, Warden-Commander, I didn't expect to see you up here." Her eyes shifted to the side, then she peered over her shoulder suspiciously. "What… what are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd enjoy the sights, while it lasts, it'll be a long night tonight. Besides, an extra pair of eyes on watch never hurt." Cousland said and leaned against the wall of the palisade.

"Um… Warden-Commander? In my clan… it was customary to give gifts at this time of year." Velanna said in her awkward social way. "This is for you." She said, handing Cousland a twig. It was a dried twig with small faded green leaves.

"What is this?" The Warden Commander asked, curious at the gift.

"It's known for many healing qualities… and it's said to render its user immortal. In this way it reminded me of you, Warden-Commander…" Velanna said. "Your people call it sage."


	8. Chapter 8: Warden Commander

Chapter 8 : Warden Commander

Her eyes sparkle like stars… her mouth is red like the blood she wears as war paint.

Her hair is silken and feathery, and my mind torrents with how lovely it would feel grazing along my cheek.

What does her neck smell like?

Her hands are strong but I doubt they are as calloused as mine are.

Her gaze hits me like a spell. Her words are like a charm…

She's lithe and tough, wise and playful… I love her wit; her powers of persuasion.

Every night I lay in bed, absorbed in the quiet of night, as I summon the image of her in the darkness behind my eyes. She's more mesmerizing in person.

How lucky I am to be near her-to be within the same walls of her… to do as she commands-to be of use to her. In a way, we need each other… her, the mistress of Vigils Keep… and I, her Seneschal.

Warden-Commander… I am your faithful servant. I would do any and all you ask of me.

'Seneschal Varel…'

Would you find any other man who would do the same? Not to say the ranks of the Grey Wardens do not have loyalty… I know they do. My devotion is of another caliber… and another life entirely…

I hear her voice speak my name… as it's like a dream; my dreams… comforting in the emptiness; my company in loneliness.

'Seneschal Varel…'

"Seneschal Varel?"


	9. Chapter 9: Seneschal Varel

Chapter 9 : Seneschal Varel

That was when it hit her. Of all her comrades she'd seen that night... she had yet to see one. Seneschal Varel.

Anders flirted shamelessly with a friendly bard with braided dark hair. Nathanial was enjoying some drunken games with the guards. Velanna sat alone on watch and in peace. Ohgren did his best to land in bed with Sigrun, not realizing she had pick-pocketed him of all his coin when she was through with his company. Justice observed the festivities with awe from the castle window. Herren and Wade played cards with Captain Garavel and a few privates. Mistress Woolsey was running the potluck dinner.

With the sage in her hand she walked into the Keep. When the door closed, it closed out most of the sounds of the festivities. She heard a few servants giggling and running around the halls as she made her way to the spiral stairs up to the second floor.

Cousland pushed the door open to the second floor battlements and when she rounded the corner she spotted the missing comrade overlooking the festival below. His form was illuminated by the bonfire... giving his silver hair a glint of gold.

"Seneschal Varel,"

She despite the distance she was from him, felt warmed by his presence all the same. In many ways, she had come to depend on him... politically, domestically and it was only recently that she was realizing there might be more than that. Cousland recalled how he had bandaged her hand. To think, such tenderness could be had from someone she saw as an unmovable object of gleaming steel at the head of Vigil Keep's hall… Like a statue.

He must have been deep in thought; he didn't respond at first.

"Seneschal Varel?"

A rumbling sigh sounded, almost like a yawn as he came around. "Ahh… Warden-Commander,"

Inside, her thoughts went rampant. She told herself to say thank you to him. However, part of her didn't want to bring it up, fear he might ask how she got the wound in the first place. Then she thought to ask what he was doing there, and then she thought better to ask his business. While she had inner turmoil, she stood there in silence and uncertainty.

He noticed. He was a very observant man. "Hm, do you have something on your mind?"

"More so lately," Cousland responded without thinking. "More 'something's than normal, I mean." She felt a little flustered.

"That's understandable, Warden-Commander. There is a lot of weight on your shoulders. It can become a burden when you are the only one to carry it." He said.

He spoke more truth than he realized, she thought. She nodded, not looking at him. Part of her suddenly feared he could see right through her like glass.

There was a long silence.

"Warden-Commander," He began. "You aren't alone. You know that, don't you? There are many who would lay down their lives for you. Many, who would face any foe with you, even be it oneself." He stepped closer to her, aiming to close the gap between them. "Even I would do anything for you."

Those words struck something in her core. Her eyes felt cold and wet. She lifted her gaze, almost stunned by his words… touched. In all the chaos, destruction, and emptiness, his devotion made her feel weak.

"You are our fearless leader, Mistress of Vigils Keep, Commander of the Grey Wardens, Hero of Denerim, Survivor of Ostagar, Queen Regent of Ferelden. You are a powerful woman with many titles and each comes with a weight that hardly many could bear."

She saw his hand reach forward, inside, her reflexes told her to move away, but she didn't. He cradled her bandaged hand.

"I would fight with you in the depths of any hell, Warden Commander, or die trying." He lifted her hand up. Her eyes locked on his mouth as it brushed over her bandages. "Ever since you saved my life from the very dark spawn that haunt these hills of Amaranthine, I have been yours. I freely give that which you saved... by my blood, my skills are yours for the taking... just as my life belongs to you, as well."

She couldn't breathe in those moments.

"I am your loyal servant, Warden-Commander."

Those words made her legs feel like straw… and her heart stop. She felt the blood rushing in her ears… and her arms and legs felt tingly and cold. Nothing else in the world made more sense to her.

"I remember it was in this very place that I first saw you... it was raining and I was certain I would be returning to the maker very soon..." His hand slid down from her bandaged one to cradle her elbow, and with a gentle tug, pulled her close. She willingly stepped near. "I was at the mercy of the dark spawn called the Withered. Do you remember? When I saw you... covered in dark spawn blood, cutting them down like a whirlwind of justice... my world changed."

In one slow moment, her world was changing as well… with an avalanche of emotion. Her hands were shaking… his skin was hot and his gaze was like a deep pool of refreshing water.

'I am your loyal servant, Warden-Commander.'

For the first time… she realized… Something was intoxicating her.

It wasn't just this man… but, his servitude...


	10. Chapter 10: Accept me Without Change

Chapter 10 : Accept me Without Change

Cousland's legs felt weak. Without anything to support herself against, she slowly stepped back, and felt her back brush against a hard wood edge. She looked back to see it was the bow of the ballista. She didn't have it in her to meet his gaze. It was as if she were afraid… to see something in his eyes. Even when his knuckles brushed her chin lightly, tilting her head up, her eyes remained away… as if refusing to meet his. But, her hand gripped his arm… Despite her fear, she didn't want to let him go. They were conflicting thoughts and emotions of which she was not familiar.

His hand found rest on her shoulder, and for long silent moments he stood there. Meanwhile her heart was beating harder. Her skin was on fire and she had begun to breathe deeper… her skin feeling prickled with sweat.

She didn't look at him, but she heard him speak...

"Mm... sage. The very smell of it invokes a feeling of peace... even for this weathered soldier."

Her eyes snapped open and she saw the sage Velanna had given her, in his free hand, poised before his face. She was still tense, and after a moment his eyes focused on her again. She felt her hair stand on end and a shiver crawl up the back of her neck.

He stepped closer.

His hand slid behind her neck, cradling gently. Then, he pulled her in, as he bowed his head. Their armor clanked as they gripped each other in an embrace. His mouth against her hair… her face against his neck, breathing the warmth of his skin. He smelled of sweet sage. Her tense body felt suddenly at ease… and she trembled against him. Her head tilted up a bit, eyes flickering up… and his chin shifted slowly to the side. She felt the graze of his stubble against her jaw. Her hands gripped tighter against him… her breath stopping, and her heart pounding.

Amidst her pain and her conflict… she gave into her desire, and inconsequently let her mouth greet his. His arms wrapped tightly around her, so tight, the embrace he nearly lifted her from the floor. She hadn't noticed the streaks of wetness on her cheeks, until he had brushed them away with his calloused thumb.

Cousland sighed and felt her breath hiccup, and in that moment, she broke the kiss, bowing her head in shame.

"I'm sorry…" She breathed, unable to look at him, but, she didn't pull away.

She felt his warm breath against her ear, and it tingled the hairs against her neck. That's when she lifted her eyes to his. The bonfire light splashed across his face, making his expression quite plain to her, and the sight of the devotion and caring in his eyes made her loose all sensation in her legs. She crumpled, and her hand came up to cover her mouth as a sob wracked her body. He held her up, pulling her close.

"Shh… don't cry," He whispered.

Despite her strength and her resolve... she had no power against him. His devotion overpowered her like an unstoppable force. Like a tidal wave and she was impotent to stop it.

He felt her weakness in his arms and he cradled her, easing her to lean back against the ballista. His touch was like a flare and her skin like the fuse and she felt her blood was burning hot, loud, as the sounds of the festival below was drowned out by pure silence... and the quiet thudding of her heart.

She felt the pressure of his hand along the small of her back and around to her side, feeling over the tasset of her armor, and she suddenly felt the weight of the armor piece lessen as it clinked to the floor... removed without her notice. Her heart stopped and quickened at the same time. Her hands gripped at his arm and his shoulder, and a sound escaped her mouth. His cheek was pressed against hers, her breath coming fast and leaving flat clouds of steam on the guardbrace of his armor.

She felt his fingers deftly unfasten her elbow cop."I know the purpose of my life, Warden-Commander..." His voice rumbled against her hair, and she felt every fiber of his bravado made her heart flutter. His hand slid over her shoulder and flick the snap of her pauldron. "... and it's you, Cousland," He whispered and her eyes closed, warmth flooding her body as he said her name. He'd never done that before... it felt so... intimate.

"Varel..." She barely heard herself say it, but she knew he did. She felt her breath forcing her to struggle to speak more so then ever. "What... do you... want from me?"

She felt his eyes pierce her, so intense, she had to turn her head away. He paused and leaned closer as she smelled his hair in his nearness. "I want you to trust me without questioning," On that note she felt her gorget loosened and his mouth smooth over the exposed skin beneath. Her grip on him tightened and her mind went spinning.

"I want you to need me without demanding," He said, and she felt the resolve of his voice against her neck. She swallowed around her drumming heart. "Accept me without change."

There was a clink sound as her left cuff fell to the floor. The second followed after, exposing the chain beneath. "I want you to desire me without inhibitions," His hand slid up the back of her neck and she felt his fingers entwine in her hair... gripping lightly and pulling, forcing her neck into an arch. She gasped and looked at him, his eyes locked on hers.

He worked the buckles of her breastplate and he was shrugging it off her. It fell heavy to the floor, spinning like a tortise shell, exposing the padding within to the starry sky. His arms encircled her frame, and she folded against him, biting her lip. As their bodies melded together and shifted, she felt the cold cuisse of his leg armor nestle between her legs. It shifted up and she tensed further.

"Want me without restrictions," He said, voice dropping, soft, and whispery. The softness of his mouth, the passion of his body language and the intensity of his words were like a draught.

"Varel-" She shuddered.

"-Love me without fear,"


	11. Chapter 11: Love Without Fear

Chapter 11 : Love Without Fear

"-Love me without fear,"

Cousland whimpered softly, pulling herself against him. He felt strong. He was sturdy. She felt as though she could truly... truly release her burdens. He slid his open palm down the links of her mail, feeling the curve of her beneath the cold metal. His arms were strong and she felt the muscles tighten as he embraced her.

Memories of her happiness with Alistair echoed in the back of her mind,

"Varel, I can't..."

His hands gripped tightly to her shoulders, squeezing as to emphasize his words... his feelings.

"I cannot exist without you, Warden-Commander..." His eyes pierced through her flesh and she felt the cold resolve send a chill through her. It went further to resound the potency of his heart as he continued.

"I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again," He paused, eyes lowering, searching. "My life seems to stop there, I see no further..."

She shuddered and her hand came up to touch his shoulder... a light and delicate touch. Varel brushed his lips down along the collar of her shirt peeking from the neckline of her chain. Cousland rolled her head to the side, face hidden by a curtain of her feathery hair.

"You have absorbed me," His breath tickled her collar bone and she felt the pressure of his hand slide down the center of her sternum, down right between her breasts. Her spine arched into his touch. "I feel as though I were dissolving... and I'm left speechless in astonishment of it."

Her heart was beating with two conflicting rhythms. A flurry of distress… and a flutter of appeal. The two patterns fighting each other, sending Cousland through a hurricane of discord.

"I have shuddered at these thoughts... Shuddered at them," The Seneschal eased her legs apart. She gasped lightly and her fingers tightened to fists. "I shudder no more, Warden-Commander."

"Ahh…" A slight sound of uncertainly was quieted by the shock of his cold hands sliding up beneath her chain mail. Her eyes closed as her resolve weakened. Had she no more fight left?

"I would die for that." Her breath hitched and she felt every quiver of her heart with each syllable. "I would die for you."

Her skin trembled as his hands smoothed up, feeling over the cloth shirt beneath. She hissed at his cold hands but didn't shrink from his touch. The chain lifted further, up, under her arms, and she willingly held the chain with shaking fingers.

She felt a nip at her navel and she yelped softly pulling her head up to look down… surprised to see him knelt before her.

"It lies in all of us," he growled. "Sleeping... "

Cousland felt herself blush darkly. "Ah… what are you…"

"Waiting... " He kissed over the warm cotton, and she felt his fingernails tease along her lower back, twisting the fabric of her shirt. "And though unwanted, unbidden," She arched her hips forward as his palms cupped her sides and he growled. "...it will stir... open its jaws and howl. "

"Warden-Commander…" She heard his voice from against her navel. She felt his teeth rake along the cloth of her shirt. His chin brushed against her leather belt. "It speaks to us..."

Her body was on fire and nothing in the world could interrupt the spiral she was descending in.

"Guides us, rules us all. And we obey."

In the back of her mind, part of her asked herself, how had she come to this? To be here, quivering as her Seneschal whispered her name against her hip and his fingernails scraped along her spine. "It is the source of our finest moments."

Cousland arched her neck back, and her breath hitched as she felt her belt loosened, and she heard the rattle of the buckle. The cold air sent chills through her core as he tore her shirt out from where it was tucked and inched it up to expose her navel. "The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... the ecstasy of grief. " His mouth roamed along her skin, exploring and kissing every inch.

"Andraste's Flaming… Varel…" The Warden's cheek rested against her shoulder, and she felt the coldness of her mail there. It made her shiver and he sighed against her flare of goose bumps. "It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. "

The guilt of her actions and her haunting memories, and her constant living in the past… she was lost in her pain. Her conflict of hopes, and her loss of devotion. The cracking and breaking of her heart. Her dreams… He represented the rebirth of those hopes, like spring at the end of a harsh winter.

"Do you know of what I speak, Warden-Commander?"

"I don't..."

"Passion."


	12. Chapter 12: Little Staff Twirler

Chapter 12 : Little Staff Twirler

"Varel... you don't..." Whatever she was going to say was lost on her. The last stitch effort of weakened morals... emptied of resistances. He was silent, now, focused.

Despite her state, she was feeling the slightest bit of warth flooding her cheeks as she felt his mouth brush over her bare navel as his warm hand slid beneath her trousers. Her body tensed up suddenly and her hand snapped to the front, gripping his wrist, as if to stop him... but she didn't pull his hand away. His hand didn't pause or withdraw, however, and he let his fingers slip down, feeling the warmth of her sex slide against his palm. His index finger trailed down and then up, down and up, down and up, between each crease of skin as if thumbing through pages.

Cousland's shoulders raised, her cheek resting against her shoulder, hair dissheveled. She bit her lip, eyes unfocused. She sighed and gulped a breath of air, leaning back again, her body finding some slight rest in her defeat. "Varel, Maker's breath..."

Each inch of skin his fingers grazed made her shiver. His fingers encircled the bundle of nerves at the apex of her fleshy folds and she cried out softly, unexpectedly.

"Ahh!" She heard a soft growl sound from him as his mouth sucked lightly on her hip. She winced lightly at the love bite and she whimpered lightly. Dampness clinged to his fingers and he smoothed them down again... exploring every silken inch of her female parts. One slick finger eased into her, her thigh tensed on his shoulder and her hand on his wrist slowly weakened. "V... V-Varel..."

She almost didn't hear it at first, but, she heard someone speaking in the background of her dreamy desire-ridden moment with Varel. She didn't recognize the voice at first... but when she did, she opened her eyes and they slowly focused. It was Nathanial's voice and he sounded close. She caught the sound of the second floor battlements door shut. She tensed up, and gripped Varel's hand, as if to pull it away. When he did not stop, alarm shot through her. She looked down at him and was surprised to see him already staring up at her. He put his finger over his mouth to quiet her. Then, with a hitch of her breath, she watched that finger disappear into his mouth.

Fear of getting caught sizzled through her. What if her friends saw this? She couldn't bear the shame if they saw her in this position, let alone... cheating on her husband, the King. It was a scandal... she'd be done for.

"Why do you occasionally refer to Anders as 'a little staff twirler'?" Nathanial inquired.

"Why? Huh... I just had deja vu." Nathanial wasn't alone, it seemed, Ohgren was also there. She mentally smacked herself in the forehead. Great. If that dwarf caught her here, he'd probably applaud.

"It's just strange. I've never seen him twirl his staff." The rogue continued. Varel and Cousland shot each other questionable stares.

"Strange? Heh, he goes at it when he thinks no ones watching, flails about in the air like the maker's watching. Caught him just the other day, blushed redder then I get with a jar of genuine moonshine, then couldn't find his skirt. I swear he's gonna poke somebodies eye out the way he works that thing, and I hope to the stone it won't be me!" He said and laughed heartily.

"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?" Nathanial questioned. Cousland and Varel wondered the same thing.

She peered over her shoulder, trying to spot the two wardens. She saw Nathanial's back and the side of Ohgren behind the corner. She tensed further and tried to pull from Varel, but his grip was sound. She let out a shuddering breath and bit her lip, praying to the maker she wouldn't be found.

"What do you think I'm talking about? Heh." She watched Ohgren disappear again and heard the creak of the door. "Let's go, I hear there's going to be a pickle juice guzzling contest!"

"Forget I asked." She saw Nathanial wave his hands, as if dismissing the images in his head. "And... that's disgusting, dwarf." He added as he followed Ohgren back down from the battlements.


	13. Chapter 13: Toads are Bad

Chapter 12 : Toads are Bad

Cousland rolled onto her back, pulling him atop her by the front of his shirt. There was an awkward yelp as he stumbled a bit and then fell into her arms. Long legs donned with heavy crinkled wool socks lifted to hook around his waist and lurch his hips forward. His blue eyes widened and his cheeks flushed pink. Despite his certainty, she loved how he was still easily flustered.

She rolled them, and she was sitting atop him, mounted. She grinned devilishly and worked a few buttons loose of his shirt.

"Ah... h-have you done this before?" He asked shyly.

"No... but I know how it all works." She replied and playfulness glinted in her eyes. She lifted his hand and encircled his thumb with her red lips, teasing his fingernail with her tongue.

His breath hitched, and she felt his response quite suddenly beneath her thigh.

"So receptive, Alistair..." She purred and lowered his hand.

"Wh... what did you expect of a chantry boy?" He said with a soft pout and whine to his voice.

Smiling softly, her fingers lightly touched his chin, sliding to cup his cheek lovingly. "I love you, Alistair."

"I love you, even if you do make me feel like an itty bitty worm on a big flaming hook."

"Your ears are flaming red right about now..."

"Are they?" He gasped as she shifted her weight atop him. "Maker's Mercy..." He leaned up, gripping the back of her head and crushing his mouth to hers. She felt a soft growl sound from him as they kissed, and she used her strength to keep her leverage above him. Their bodies moved... and her hips rolled. His arms encircled her as she arched against him.

Soon enough the two laid side by side. Cousland's hair tousled and twisted in the blankets, and Alistair still catching his breath with sweat on his brow.

"You rut like a bleeding desire demon," He said, brows raised. "Not that I'd know what that's like, Maker forbid..."

She laughed and rolled into the nook under his arm, nuzzling his chest. "Well, we don't have anything to worry about. It's nearly impossible to conceive as grey wardens. It's like... a rather simple and well, kind of painless birth control."

"Ah... of course, but..."

"You're thinking about that toad, Morrigan, aren't you?"

"Yes, toad indeed. She technically has my heir, you know that... don't you?"

Cousland's dislike of the hedge-witch was apparent in her gnarled brows. "If she ever comes back I'll skin her like the wolf she is."

Alistair lovingly kisses her hair and pulls her tight against him. "I know you would, dear. And that lovely thought reminds me! Have I told you I love you today?"

"Yes, you have."

"Ah, well, I better not repeat myself, lest we both tire of my voice," He joked.

"It couldn't hurt..."

Alistair paused a moment, as if pondering something. Cousland remained silent, eyes locked to his cute expression. "You know what? In all this time, I've come to two solid conclusions in life; I love you, and toads are bad."


	14. Chapter 14: Roundhouse Kick of Remorse

Chapter 13: Roundhouse Kick of Remorse

Cousland found herself in a sour mood the morning after the Solstice celebration. As if her heart was suffering withdrawal from the energy, the hope, that came from so many the night before. Perhaps it was that taste of contentment that made her thirsty for more. As Cousland was strapping on her armor, she heard her mabari hound yelp behind her. She smiled a little as and peered over her gleaming pauldron. She was in a peculiar mood… she desired to do something. Something she had been wanting to do and hadn't yet…

_Amaranthine _

The Warden Commander walked into the small building, hearing the bustle of children in the hallways. She smiled some as she passed classrooms of children ranging in ages of five to eight. She passed a room where some children slept with extra blankets and fluffy pillows. She went to the doorway, smiling faintly and leaning against the frame of the door. She crossed her arms and felt her hound nudge her side. She spotted a bottle of antivan brandy high on a shelf above one of the beds.

Cousland felt a pang in her chest as she watched the blight orphans napping. She lowered her eyes, and she noticed one of the nursemaids pass. She smiled and nodded to the Warden Commander, pausing to stand with her for a time. Eventually Cousland turned away from the room, walking down the hall back toward the main exit. Suddenly she was feeling a conflicting twist in her stomach. She pushed open the doors, welcoming the bright sunshine outside and the sound of children laughing.

She regretted not being able to have children of her own.

_Vigil's Keep_

Cousland laid on the floor by the hearth fire in her room. She sat up, chilled by the silence of night. Instead of seeing her bedroom before her, she saw herself walking down the hallway in the orphanage, toward the doors. As the door opened, she saw Alistair. Her heart wrenched in her chest. Remembering conversations, they had in the long distant past… Grey Wardens couldn't have children together. In her vision, she stepped back from the doors, and away from Alistair… the door closes.

She grumbled as she remembered Morrigan. That toad could hold Alistair's child… but her own tainted body would never be able to. She was filled with a deep resounding rage… and a bitter persistent remorse. It was possible for Grey Wardens to have children with people who were not Grey Wardens… like Alistair and Morrigan. She sighed, feeling a tingle of annoyance at the thought of the hedge witch.

Cousland heard a knock at her door. Her mabari hopped off the bed, sniffing at the door and whining. He pawed at the door. As Cousland stood up, wrapped in her blanket, she noticed how fast the mabari's stub tail was wagging. She smiled a little, wondering who it was this late. She opened the door. For a split second she saw the Orphanage door again, before her, open, as if her own door. Beyond it wasn't Alistair.

It was Seneschal Varel.


	15. Chapter 15: The Quiet Death

Chapter 14: The Quiet Death

There was silence. Cousland blinked at the Seneschal, a wave of warmth flashing across her face as she registered who stood there, and realized it wasn't a dream. He was wearing his shining silver plate armor. She heard a shift of his boot on the stone floor, as if a nervous shift of weight from left to right foot.

Cousland gulped around the knot in her throat. She felt her mabari nudge past her, glancing between the two and sniffing the air. He barked to break the silence, as if sensing the tension.

With that, Varel spoke. "Warden-Commander, you should come outside. There's some peasants outside."

Cousland rubbed her eyes, letting out a shuddering yawn. "You're... wearing armor? The blazing time of night is it?"

"Actually, it's morning, Commander. Rather early in the morning, it's not even dawn, yet. If you please, we're about to have a riot on our hands. We could really use your help outside." He said, smooth voice betraying the urgency of his words.

_Outside Vigils Keep_

"My son is starving! Open the granaries! Bloody feed your people!"

Cousland looked confusedly to Varel. He spoke. "I fear this must be work of the conspiracy against you and the Grey Wardens. If the common folk just rose up on their own, I'll eat my boot."

Captain Garavel was the next to add his two copper. "Varel you don't coddle a revolt, you put it down. Just give me the order."

Cousland cleared her throat, stepping forward. "Now, more than ever, we must stand together..." She began. She was assaulted instantly with a stone that ricocheted off her chest plate. She stepped back from the shock of it, but she didn't wince.

"But we must eat." A woman out cried.

The riot leader lifted his torch. "If we get to the granaries, we can feed our families!" Suddenly the angry rioters were on them. Cousland refused to slice down these unarmed civilians. She deflected their attacks with her own armored hands. She threw a pitchfork to the ground.

"Stop this! Nothing will be solved with blood shed!" She shouted, trying to help them see reason.

Varel wasn't far away, also trying to calm the crowd to no avail. That comforted her... knowing she could see him. Cousland was hit with a burning torch, and she felt the heat in her armor immediately. She whirled away from it, away from the desperate civilian. As she turned, she saw movement atop the dungeon roof. It was gone as soon as she saw it. She was knocked forward by a sudden slam of a body against her back. She tumbled forward in the surprise. The pitchfork she threw to the ground snagged on her boot and she unceremoniously slammed into the ground, weight atop her. Thankfully her armor kept her from being harmed in the fall, or the weight of the body that had suddenly slammed into her. She pushed against the ground, summoning her strength to roll the body off her. She heard the armored body clank onto the stone road.

She let out a breath and looked. She saw Varel. He was clutching an arrow in his chest. He looked pale, but he was alive. He was wincing in pain. But he didn't look good. The connection was made. Her mind went spinning back to the movement on the roof. His words... **conspiracy? **She cursed under her breath and grabbed his shoulder.

"Varel!"

He hissed out a deep breath, his silver eyes opening to peer up at her. She saw pain in his eyes... not just the pain of an arrow. Something more than just an arrow would take him down. She inspected the arrow... it had sunk through the leather band holding his armor together on his side... From the look of it, a purposeful shot, aimed right for a lethal area. Cousland had seen assassination attempts before, but why shoot Varel… ?

"Varel... you damn nug-trainer... what in Andraste's Ashes were you thinking?!" She pulled him up, wrapping her arm around his back. In the nearness, she could smell him... that familiar scent. It made her heart suddenly wrench in her chest.

"Cousland...The human heart feels things the eyes cannot see, and knows what the mind cannot understand..." He said. Cousland stared down at him, unblinking, and for a moment, she didn't hear anything in that moment. The world was empty of all sound. His words struck a chord. "The heart has reasons that reason cannot know."

An ice spell whizzed over her head. An arrow slammed into a civilian coming at Cousland and Varel. Anders and Nathanial attacked from the second floor. A red-haired dwarf in his pajamas came barreling out with a plank of wood, sending civilians flying in all directions, whether he hit them or not; it was a sight to behold.

Captain Garavel came to Cousland and Varel. "Warden-Commander, we need to get him inside!" He said. With his help, Cousland helped lift Varel and carry him into the main hall of Vigils Keep.

"Peasant uprisings-they never end well." Captain Garavel said as he paced back and forth by the doors as Cousland's allies walked in, one by one.

Cousland was knelt beside Varel. The Seneschal cringed as he spoke. "There had to be another way."

Captain Garavel was quick to respond. "You know as well as I that if you give in to the mob, you're ruled by the mob."

Cousland looked between the men, and then to Varel as he sighed. He didn't want to live like that. She knew it from the way he sighed. "You're right, Garavel."

Anders came right up to Varel and touched him with a healing spell. Cousland looked on, expectantly. Anders cleared his throat, noticing the arrow was not coming loose from his torso... and Varel still looked pale and unhealthy. Cousland heard Nathanial's voice behind her.

"It's no good, Anders. That looks like poison." Nathanial knelt beside Cousland, checking the wound. Varel groaned painfully, sweating, now. Nathanial asked Varel a few intrinsic questions about the sensations he was feeling, nerve response, and comprehension. Quickly the rogue knew what kind of poison was used on him.

"Quiet Death. I'm sure of it." Nathanial said, softly, to Cousland, so Varel wouldn't hear.

"What can we do?"

"An antidote will cease the effects, but he'll need some rest after that. It's a toxic cocktail. It'll turn his liver into paste and kidneys into a mushy gray matter." Nathanial responded with a cocked dark eyebrow. "Meanwhile... let me see about that arrow."

"Where-?"

"I got just what you need, Commander!" Anders aid and opened his pack. Out popped a white kitten. "Not that... here. Knew dabbling with herbs and potions would come in handy!" He handed Cousland an antidote. Cousland sighed with relief and leaned forward, unpopping the top to carefully feed the reagent to Varel. He drank carefully, and Nathanial was working on removing the arrow from him. When the antidote was emptied, she handed the flask to Anders. Nathanial handed her the bloody arrow.

Captain Garavel sighed and rubbed his forehead, heading away. Ohgren was nowhere to be seen, most likely fell back to sleep with his plank of wood. Anders and Nathanial looked on, as Varel's color began to return to his face. Cousland felt a wave of relaxation through her. "Thank Andraste's Grace..." She whispered.

"Let's get you to bed." Nathanial said, and with Anders' help, the two picked him up and carried him to his room.

Cousland looked down at the arrow in her hand, twisting it between her fingers with anger in her eyes. She heard the distant barking of her mabari hound, summoning for her presence. She sighed and stood, heading back to her room where the hound sat expectantly on her bed-or rather-his bed.

She tossed the arrow onto a bookshelf. The hound sniffed the air and whined out, covering his nose. Cousland sat by the fire, tossing a few logs on for more embers. She was still tense... thinking of Varel. She wanted to be there... but she didn't want to be the mabari hound barking for him.


	16. Chapter 16: My Double Entendre

Chapter 15: My Double Entendre

Cousland crumpled her newest letter in her hand with annoyance. She walked through the Keep, going for advice to the person who knew how to handle everything. Her Seneschal. The door was already open, Anders was there with Ser-Pounce-Alot, talking.

The Commander wasn't about to stop for pleasantries. She was angry. "The Local Chantry is threatening to withdraw aid to the Arling of Amaranthine for harboring a Malificar. They also caught wind that the Commander of the Grey murdered Arl Rendon Howe, the former Arl, in cold blood." She growled, offering the letter to Varel.

Varel looked to her with a quickly registering gaze, taking the letter. Anders blinked in blank unison with the cat.

"Would you like me to take care of this for you, Warden-Commander?" He asked. The tone in his voice made her stomach bubble nervously... her body felt warmer.

"This... sounds like... bad news. I'll be on my way. I heard Sigrun and Nathanial were going to have an archery contest so..." Anders slinked away.

Cousland refocused on Varel. His gaze changed dramatically in their privacy. She recognized it. She folded her arms in front of her. "I cannot allow you to do anything. You're on strict bed rest."

He cleared his throat, shifting his powerful body up a bit, adjusting the pillow behind him. "With all due respect, Warden-Commander, no one else at his Keep knows how to handle delicate situations like this. It needs the experienced hands of a political nature, someone familiar. Surely the Seneschal of Vigils Keep, a non-Gray Warden can speak for you?"

"I..." Cousland felt a warmth in her chest. "I know you're the best choice... you handle things with enough grace and I trust you. You're experienced, I know that... and that reassures me. I know you can take care of me. I feel like you can take care of things that I don't know how to handle... like you just inherently know... when I don't even know, myself... that's something precious..." Cousland caught herself. Suddenly her felt her heart stop-realizing what she's been saying. There was more to what she said... it had deeper meaning. Her hand immediately covered her mouth, eyes moving away from him, as if to evade her sudden uneasiness... feeling as if she'd suddenly confessed something... more.

Perhaps... that's just what it was.

There was silence. In the quiet she glanced back at him, seeing surprise in his gray eyes. He looked as surprised as she felt. She turned and immediately left the room. He didn't speak out to stop her... he still held the letter in his hand, and his stunned gray eyes lowered to the paper in his hands.

Cousland walked into the main hall just as she heard the main doors slam open. There were guards carrying a man. He was screaming. "Please, help me! Please help my family! Oh god the darkness has taken my fields... please..."

The Warden-Commander rushed over with her comrades looking on. Velanna scowled with annoyance. "He sounds like he's lost it, Commander. Should I end his suffering?"

"No." Cousland responded curtly. "He looks wounded. Heal him."

The dalish grumbled but obliged. The guards set the shaking man down. "What happened?" Cousland asked.

"He came running from the hills. He said his farm was attacked. We can see the smoke from the gates."

The man had tears streaking down his face. He gripped Cousland by the front of her armor. "Please... Commander... my wife... my children... my whole life is there. Please!"

"And you ran? Coward." Velanna growled.

"This man has suffered a great tragedy. We should strike justice upon the darkspawn who have attacked him." Justice said.

Cousland thought of the blight orphans curled up in their beds. The familiar ache of her own wish for a child... the tried to imagine the pain this man went through in order to run away from his family in order to save them. She touched his shoulder, squeezing.

The peasant riot was still fresh in her mind. She wasn't about to ignore her people being attacked. "I'll leave right now. Anders, Nathanial, Justice, you're with me. On the double!"


	17. Chapter 17 - Attack on the Farm Lands

The smoke of fires flared through the sky like a black funnel cloud as The Warden Commander hurried to the country home. The stench of burning human flesh assaulted her senses and burned her eyes. She felt the same disgust from Nathaniel and Anders behind her.

In the distance marched a second group led by Justice and five men. Between the seven of them with four of them being grey wardens, this insurgence of Dark Spawn would surely be dealt with.

Cousland lead the attack, running at the Ogre who was slamming a small country house apart with wide arcs of his fists. Anders hit the creature with a rune of paralyzation as Nathanial peppered it with a stream of Andraste Arrows. Cousland's weapons gleamed in the firelight as she began her assault with three blows against her target, dealing normal damage for the first two strikes and generating a critical hit for the final blow. The Ogre staggered from the attack, black blood spurting from the wounds to the dirt road. A singing arrow slammed right into the Ogre's left eye, and the giant tumbled face-first into the dirt, sending the arrow further back into its skull... solidifying its death.

Anders was reviving one of the nearby farmers and healing another. Nathanial covered their retreat with a rain of arrows. Meanwhile, Cousland caught the sight of a young girl in the grip of a hurlock. Anger fumed from her intense eyes. She began a sprint, daring to surround herself in the army of darkspawn to get to that child. She skidded under the rumbling steps of another Ogre and swiped at a charging genlock. She ran full-force into the hurlock who had the child with a mighty battle cry and a double strike of her swords into his spine.

The girl tumbled from his grasp. She was bloody and her dress was torn. Justice was suddenly there and he slammed his shield into the throat of an oncoming darkspawn behind the girl, blocking Cousland with that arm. Cousland felt a Darkspawn behind her grip her arm. She turned, slamming her elbow into its jaw. Justice slammed his sword down into its chest, impaling it like a pig ready to roast. Cousland swung around to slam the pommel of her sword into a darkspawn's head and sliced him as he fell.

Cousland scooped up the child and ran from the horde behind her. There was an opening in the darkspawn group, and she went for it. As she came to edge of the hill, she saw a river through the trees and brush in the valley below. She was about to leap when something gripped her ankles. In the momentum the child went flying down the hill without her. Cousland fell flat on her face, stunned. She coughed and curled at the pain in her ribs at the hard fall. She gasped and rolled over. She saw a dark figure above her... and heard a voice in the background... calling for her.

"WARDEN-COMMANDER!"

It sounded like Varel… but, perhaps she wished it was him. Then, there was only darkness.


End file.
